


Before It's All Too Late (Before I Die This Way)

by TimmyJaybird



Series: 100 Themes Challenge [30]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Attempted Rape, Body Dysphoria, Cunnilingus, Do not read if you have emetophobia, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FtM Dick, Homophobic Language, M/M, Mentioned Mutilation, Not between any of the ships, Panic Attacks, Trans Character, Vaginal Sex, implied/mentioned JayRoy, platonic JayDick, transphobic language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10358631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: Weary from tireless nights, Dick is thrown off guard and his world is utterly wrecked in the span of only a few minutes. And while some care from Jason helps him deal with the aftermath, what he wants and needs is the support of the man he's come to love and trust, despite knowing who andwhathe is.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The theme was "seeking solace".
> 
> Please heed the warnings on this one. I put Dick through hell.
> 
> Also, give Through Fire's "Breathe (Acoustic)" a listen if you're so inclined, the title stems from that song.

Dick arched, his stomach seizing up in agony as the needle plunged in deep, releasing whatever contents it held into his bloodstream. His mouth fell open in a broken scream, as one of them who had gotten the jump on him- and god, it shouldn’t have happened, but he was on his third day of no sleep and he was  _ ragged _ \- grabbed his hair, jerking his head back painfully. Dick’s neck burned with it, along with his scalp.

 

“We should open him up,” the guy said, and Dick felt the flat of a knife tap against his throat. “String his guts up for the ole Bat to see! Think the boss would like it?”

 

The other man, the one with the needle, was tossing it to the ground, pulling his own knife out. It gleamed, Dick could just see it. “Maybe,” he said, hooking it in the tear the needle had left, slicing down Dick’s navel. The suit gave, and Dick felt the blade brushing his belly. “Maybe, like it more if it got that Red Hood’s attention though. Got it  _ bad _ for that guy.”

 

Dick tried to move his arms, but they were dead weight. He managed to kick his legs gently, but it did nothing, as the knife worked at his suit, up towards his chest now. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus himself, to work through the drug. He could do it.  _ Mind over body _ .

 

But his mind and body were exhausted, and when the suit opened to his neck he couldn’t fight it. It was shoved off, the point of a knife poised right over his heart, twisted so it bit in, a single bead of blood welling up around it. “Fancy scars you got,” the guy said, glancing at Dick’s chest, at the scars beneath it. Dick felt his throat close up, his tongue heavy and dry. A rough thumb ran over one, made him feel dirty, and he wanted to shudder, wanted to retch.

 

_ Why couldn’t he get his body to move? _

 

“They don’t look like an accident,” the guy still holding him said. The one with the knife clicked his tongue, before he was cutting Dick’s suit down lower, over his pelvis, between his legs. Dick kept his eyes shut, counting slowly to himself. He told himself when he hit  _ ten _ , he was going to move. His body would listen.

 

The fabric of his cup followed, and the guy holding his hair grunted. “What are you doing man? You a fag like that?”

 

“Don’t let the boss catch you sayin’ that word,” he grumbled, as the knife dug into the fabric of Dick’s briefs. He was only on  _ seven _ but he gritted his teeth, tried to kick his legs. Nothing moved, he felt dead, heavy, limp. Felt like his muscles had all died inside him.

  
  


The fabric was peeled away, and the man between his legs  _ whistled _ . The one holding Dick’s hair leaned over, trying to get a look, and- “Ain’t no boy wonder down there.”

 

Dick swallowed the sick feeling down. This wasn’t  _ happening _ . No one two  _ nobodies _ had gotten him down, had drugged him, were  _ looking at him _ . But the knife pushed between his thighs, the flat of it pushing against his lips- cold, and he wanted to shudder. A broken sound fell from his throat.

 

“Not a bad pussy though,” the guy said, pulling the knife away. “Maybe we should string his insides out after we have a little fun.” Dick’s hair was suddenly freed, and the man that had been pulling it was tossing him over. Dick sprawled on his belly, the breath rushing out of it, as the other man got back between his legs, pulling his thighs wide apart. “No wonder the bat used to have ‘er run around in those shorts.” The other guy grabbed Dick’s chin, forced his head up, the other reaching down, palming his dick through his pants.

 

“This doesn’t make me a fag, does it?” he asked, and Dick wanted to spit on him.

 

“Said don’t use that word, Black Mask’ll get pissy.” The guy’s fingers rubbed against Dick’s lips,parting them and showing off his inner pink folds. “And nah, this ain’t no guy.” His fingers slid within Dick’s folds, pushed at his entrance, into him, and Dick grunted, eyes opening. They were wet behind his mask, and Dick wanted to snarl, wanted to claw into these two filthy men.

 

Mostly, he wanted to wake up.

 

The fingers were drawing back, and the man in front of Dick was pulling his zipper down, just as the rev of an engine rang outside the warehouse. The two men looked at each other, and the guy between Dick’s legs stood up, ran to the old clouded window and peeked out.

 

“ _ Shit _ , pack up and move,” he said, and the guy in front of Dick was pulling his zipper back up, letting go of Dick. His neck unable to support his head, Dick’s cheek crashed down against the dusty floor. He coughed, feeling his stomach rolling, as the men headed for the back of the old warehouse. Dick heard the crashing of doors, and then the blissful silence around him, for a few single seconds.

 

And then heavy boots, crunching over broken glass, whatever other debris lay on the floor. Coming closer, closer- and Dick wanted to sink into the world, wanted it to swallow him up so he could disappear, instead of being  _ here _ . Anything but this.

 

The footsteps grew louder, then paused for a second, before a very loud, “ _ Shit _ ,” and they were running. Running and then the heavy fall as someone landed on their knees, neck to Dick, settled a hand on his back. It was large but somehow soothing. “Goldie, hey man.”

 

Dick felt a set of hands carefully rolling him to his side. His head lolled, and he stared behind his mask, his mouth falling open. One of the hands left his body and Jason reached up, tore his helmet off and let it drop to the floor.

 

“Dick,  _ shit _ man. Hey, it’s alright.” Jason left go of him completely, shrugged out of his jacket and glanced him over. He draped his jacket over Dick’s hips, trying to give him a little modesty, and Dick wanted to cry over it. “You’re alright, I swear it. I’m gonna get you out of here.”

 

Dick  _ believed _ him, and maybe it was that faith that finally let him pass out.

 

*

 

Dick came to in his own room. It took him minutes to realize this, to open his eyes and recognize the pattern on the blanket, the altar across the room. He licked his lips, his throat feeling dry. He tried to sit up, but he felt sluggish, his head foggy- and the movement had his stomach rolling. He reached up, pressed his hand to his mouth, tried to inhale slowly through his nose as the nausea crept in.

 

The bed groaned beneath him, was enough to get the bedroom door opening fully- and there was Jason, rushing over to him. He leaned over, pressed a hand to Dick’s back, the other brushing his hair off his forehead. “Hey, hey, relax.”

 

“Gonna… be sick,” Dick managed, muffled by his hand. Jason pulled back, glancing around the room quickly, before he took a few steps to grasp a small plastic trash can. Thankfully it was empty, and Jason hurried back, holding it out. Dick took it without a word, settled it between his legs as he bent forward over it, coughing. His stomach clenched up, and he felt the burn of pile in his throat, spit thick saliva into the bin. A moment later and he was groaning, retching wetly. He missed Jason wince, before the man reached out, rubbed his back through his tshirt.

 

“Hey, it’s alright. Just uh, let it out.” Dick coughed, wasn’t sure if that was a poor or perfect choice of words- but then he was throwing up again. There wasn’t much  _ in _ him to begin with, he hadn’t been eating right, and it mostly just burned of stomach acid. Jason continued to rub, as sweat beaded along Dick’s spine, began to dampen his tshirt. He coughed again, spit sour saliva, before turning, resting his cheek on his arm, facing away. “Better?”

 

“Think so,” Dick mumbled. Jason pulled his hand back, helped to guide Dick back and took the trash can. He left without a word, and in the distance Dick heard the bathroom door, the flush of the toilet, the water in the sink. He might have smiled, but his face ached.  _ Everything _ ached.

 

And slowly, it came back to him. The knife ripping his suit, the needle in his belly. The fingers  _ inside _ him. All at once he was nauseous again, but with nothing in him to bring up he could only ride out the awful feeling, staring up at the ceiling as it spun. He squeezed his eyes shut, heard their ugly voices, over and over again.

 

Dick was  _ tired _ . He was tired and he felt sick and he was  _ violated _ in ways he didn’t want to mention. He couldn’t even imagine if Jason hadn’t come along.

 

“Dick. You look pale.” The bed dipped, and Jason sat on the edge of it. He reached out, brushed his hair back again, ran his calloused fingers over his cheek. It was soothing, affectionate. “And you’re  _ never _ pale.” There was a stretch of silence, one Dick didn’t want to fill, but Jason asked, “What did they do to you?”

 

It was spoken softly, but Dick could hear the anger, crackling behind him. He swallowed thickly, reached down and tugged his tshirt up, to his ribs. There was a tiny bandage over the puncture wound in his belly. “Dunno what it was,” he said, “body was lifeless.” He licked his lips. “They were talking about gutting me so get your attention.”

 

Jason gritted his teeth then. He stood up, took a few steps away from the bed, facing away from Dick. Dick could see his shoulders shaking, gently. “I shouldn’t have played Black Mask so close,” he muttered, “shouldn’t have done it  _ my way _ . He’s infatuated now, and look what it’s  _ done _ .” Jason reached up, rubbed his temples. “I was worried about him going after Roy, Lian. Looks like he’s reaching for  _ anyone _ .”

 

“Wouldn’t matter normally,” Dick said, “I was off my game. Haven’t slept in days.”

 

Jason turned, looked pained. “My fault again. He’s causing so much damn trouble.” He shook his head. “I’ll shut him up- for good if I have to.” Yet he walked back over, rested his hand on Dick’s shoulder. “Later, though. I have to call Roy. I have to make sure he and the munchkin are okay. But I won’t leave you alone.”

 

Dick reached up, brushed Jason’s hand off. “I’m fine,” he said. “Go to your man and your kid. Make sure they’re alright. No one’s coming for me tonight.”

 

“Dick-”

 

“You got there before they could do much damage,” Dick said, and his smile was so painfully fake. “A few fingers but that’s it.” Jason winced.

 

“I’m so sorry man-”

 

“It’s not your fault. Just go make sure Roy and Lian are alright. Okay?” Jason hesitated, before he nodded, bending over and pressing his mouth to Dick’s temple. It was soft, took Dick by surprise, and he could only turn and stare, when Jason straightened up.

 

“I’ll call you,” he promised. And Dick knew he would. He trusted Jason enough for that.

 

*

 

He wrapped himself in a blanket, moved himself to the couch after Jason left. Turned the television on and just stared. Minutes ticked to hours, and Dick never once really registered what was on the television. His mind still felt clouded, and his body ached low in his muscles. His stomach never fully settled, so once he was curled up into the arm of the couch he couldn’t bring himself to move.

 

He didn’t stare at the television but past it. Exhausted, but he couldn’t sleep. When his eyes closed he heard voices, and they snapped back open. He kept squirming his legs, unconsciously pressing his thighs together. He didn’t hurt, there hadn’t been time for anyone to be rough enough for that- but it kept creeping into his mind, someone had been  _ there _ , someone had touched him without his permission.

 

Would have done so much more, if Jason hadn’t shown up.

 

And  _ stupid _ , that he had allowed himself to get to that point. That he was so tired two lowlifes got the best of him. He should have been able to take care of them with his eyes closed. He should have been able to rise above the drug. Fatigue shouldn’t matter.

 

Maybe he was holding himself to the same standards he knew Bruce held of himself, maybe he was being the man he told himself he never  _ would _ , sitting alone in the dark lamenting over it and blaming himself, but he couldn’t stop. Once it started…

 

Sometime around three AM his phone went off. He glanced at it, saw  _ Little Wing _ flashing. He reached for it, unlocked and answered without a word. But when the line came to life, Jason was there. “Hey, Dick. How are you?”

 

“Awake,” he said, and he wondered if Jason cringed. He didn’t mean for that- he was just being honest. “Roy? Lian? They alright?”

 

“Yeah, yeah. Roy’s got enough of his Roybots ‘round this place to fight off an army. Just… worry when you love someone.” Dick nodded. “But they’re just fine. Lian’s been in bed for hours. Roy was asleep on the couch when I came home.” There was a pause, and then, “really, how are you? Are you okay?”

 

Okay didn’t feel like the word, but saying he wasn’t would alarm Jason. And he didn’t need that, Dick knew. Jason was dealing with all the aftermath of getting so close to Roman, Dick knew it was keeping him up at night. Knew it was taking it’s toll. “Okay’s not the word,” he did admit, and Jason grunted.

 

“Listen, if they-”

 

“They  _ didn’t _ ,” Dick said. “Not enough time. You interrupted… just…” Dick licked his lips, and could he  _ admit _ it? “A few fingers.”

 

His stomach rolled, and he wanted to vomit again.

 

He heard Jason’s breath. “I’m coming back.”

 

“Roy and Lian-”

 

“I can pack ‘em up and bring them with me. You shouldn’t be alone.”

 

Dick forced a laugh. It sounded morbid. “I’m fine. You being here won’t change what happened. And I don’t feel like I’m about to be hunted down. Just.” He sighed. “I close my eyes and I hear the shit they said.”

 

“What’d they say to you?”

 

Dick swallowed thickly. Words he hadn’t heard in a long,  _ long _ time. He’d been comfortable with himself for so long, he didn’t flinch when his lovers saw him, for the first time. He remembered being shy, and the first few times worrying what someone might say, how things didn’t  _ match _ \- but now he was perfect in his skin. Loved it, even.

 

And yet…

 

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

“Dick-”

 

“Get some sleep, Jason. Kiss the munchkin for me.” Before Jason could say another word, Dick ended the call. He set his phone on the couch, slumping back into the arm of the couch, letting his aching eyes finally fall shut.

 

He slept, but not well.

 

*

 

Dick never heard the apartment door open. He never heard the heavy bag of gear dropping to the floor, or the boots, walking around the couch. What he  _ felt _ was the hand brushing his hair back, tenderly. He groaned, slitting his eyes open, his head pounding the moment he did.

 

But it was worth it, to see Slade looking down at him. “Slade?” he mumbled, and his lover was reaching for the blanket Dick had wrapped around him, bundling him up further. “What?” Dick yawned, let his eyes drop shut again. It helped to ease his headache slightly. “Did I sleep days?”

 

Slade chuckled, reached for the back of the couch and bent over him, kissed Dick’s forehead. “No. I came home early.” Dick sighed over the kiss. “Do you want me to take you to bed?”

 

“Here’s fine,” Dick managed, even though there was a crook in his neck from the angle he’d slept at. Slade clicked his tongue, and when his arms slid under Dick, Dick didn’t fight it. He went limp, leaned into Slade as he was lifted, cradled against his chest. He sighed again, pressing his face to his tshirt, his jacket open. Slade walked him across the apartment, nudged the door open with his foot and then his shoulder, taking Dick to their bed. He laid him out gently, and Dick stretched, feeling better already.

 

He didn’t fight Slade tucking him in, relished in the childish feeling. He might have thought to press more why he was home, but Dick was simply too tired. His body still felt awful, and he simply wanted to sleep. Didn’t want to think.

 

He drifted again. He heard Slade say his name, but he never responded.

 

*

 

When Dick woke up again, his cheeks were wet. His eyes stung, and he stared up at the ceiling, couldn’t fathom why, what was happening. He choked on a breath, let out a shuddering sob, and turned, pressed his face into the pillows. He whined, clutching at them, sniffling as the tears wracked him, his breaths hurting.

 

He didn’t think he was loud, but the bedroom door opened, the bed dipped and groaned, and there was a reassuring hand, on his back. It rubbed his spine through his tshirt, and Dick caved, let himself shake and shudder as he groaned, crying so hard his stomach was clenching up. He coughed, gagged, sucked in a breath so hard the oxygen rushed to his brain, made him dizzy.

 

He did it again, and again, and then he felt Slade’s hand in his hair. “Dick,” he said, his voice stern but not unkind. “You’re hyperventilating.”

 

Dick knew he was, but he couldn’t stop. He shuddered and groaned and sucked more air in, squeezing his eyes shut. His next cough was so violent he gagged again, and Slade was up, leaving him for just a moment, before he was back. Dick lifted his head, opened his stinging eyes, took one look at the little trash bin, and grasped it until his knuckles went white, leaning over it as he gagged again.

 

His stomach clenched up, but all he had in him was thick saliva. He spit, panting so quickly his head ached, and Slade was pushing his hair back.

 

“I need you to take a deep breath,” he said, and Dick squeezed his eyes shut, could and couldn’t and  _ couldn’t _ . He tried, and this time he did retch, coughing up stomach bile that made his throat burning like acid, left his tongue feeling slimy. He groaned, a full body shudder wracking him. “Little bird.” Slade’s voice was soothing now, softer, and Dick glanced up. He felt miserable, wanted to hide, didn’t want to be seen like this- “ _ Please _ .”

 

Dick swallowed down a breath at that word- and worked so hard to hold it. It rushed out before he meant, but it was a start. The next he held longer, and then the next- until he was letting his lungs burn, until Slade would tell him to exhale. It was long minutes of this, over and over again, until Dick felt the panicking ebbing in him, felt like he could truly breathe again.

 

“Can I move this?” Slade asked, one hand grabbing the lip of the bin. Dick nodded, and Slade gently pulled it away, bent over and set it on the floor. He held Dick sit up, got both his hands in his hair, brushing it back from his sweat slick forehead. Dick felt like he needed an hour long shower, felt sweat everywhere, on his scalp and making it itch. And yet Slade was still touching him, still looking at him. “What happened?”

 

“I don’t know,” Dick managed. His throat ached and his voice was a squeak. He winced over it. “I don’t  _ know _ .”

 

“Okay.” Slade eased an arm around him, pulled Dick in. He melted against Slade’s chest, tucked in under his chin, as his boyfriend rubbed his back. “It’s okay.”

 

Dick squeezed his eyes shut. He swore he hadn’t been dreaming, but there were fragments. Things hurting him, shoving into him, calling him a whore, a filthy  _ woman _ . Laughter and this feeling of utter obscenity, over his own body.

 

“I need a shower,” he mumbled, pushing himself from Slade’s hold. Slade didn’t fight him, but when Dick began to climb from the bed he was up, offering out a hand. Dick took it, followed Slade through the room and felt like a child, like he needed a chaperone to the damn bathroom.

 

Once in it, he headed straight for the shower. He opened the doors, turning on the water. He reached for his shirt, was about to pull it over his head- but paused, knowing Slade was still standing in the doorway.

 

“Can you,” he started, pausing to swallow. His mouth tasted disgusting, but he could ignore it for a moment. Slade quirked up his one brown- and Dick couldn’t remember a single time he’d ever asked Slade to look away from him. He’d always  _ flaunted _ himself in front of the man, loved the way Slade’s stare seemed to settle all the way down to his bones.

 

He got a little grunt then, and Slade turned his back on him. And while it was what Dick wanted, it  _ hurt _ somehow. He swallowed that down, pulled his shirt off, reached down to get his sweats and briefs off. It hadn’t occurred to him until then, but Jason had to have dressed him. Jason had seen  _ everything _ , and sure, there weren’t many secrets within the family, not with the Cave and showers at three AM and no one believing in  _ modesty _ -

 

But somehow it made Dick hurt, in his gut.

 

He stepped into the shower, pulling the door shut. The water was burning hot, stung his skin, but he stood under the spray regardless. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back, listened as he heard Slade’s footsteps as he walked away. Dick reached up, ran his hands through his hair, turned and let it pelt his scalp, his back. He sighed, felt like he wanted to burn a layer off himself. The layer they had touched-

 

His eyes opened slowly. He wanted to think that was crazy, that it didn’t matter, Jason had gotten there in time- but it was also about the layer they  _ saw _ . About where their words had sunken in.

 

Dick sighed, hung his head, glanced down his dark skin. It was quickly flushing from the water, making the scars beneath his chest stand out more prominently. Carefully he reached up, traced his finger over one. It was a familiar action, he had a habit of touching his scars. He figured they all did, making sure things hadn’t changed, as their bodies so often did with how many they picked up.

 

These scars had always been the same. These had always been a little mark of  _ pride _ for him. Because he’d taken his body and turned it into what he wanted, what he knew he deserved. He’d let his lovers touch them and hadn’t shrunk away. He could remember Slade’s calloused thumbs on the edges of them, as he grasped Dick’s chest, when Dick would ride him, head tipped back feeling like  _ heaven _ .

 

There was an ache in his cunt over that. A cramp, and Dick groaned, dropped his hands away. He wanted to dig his nails into himself, in his most intimate places, and it made him feel sick all over again. Instead he reached for the shampoo, he busied his hands and tried to not lose himself in his thoughts. When he was finally clean, when he was dizzy from all the heat, he turned the water off, slowly slid the shower door open.

 

The bathroom door was shut. There was a pile of clothing on the closed toilet, a fluffy towel within reach. Dick hadn’t even  _ heard _ Slade come back in, but he was thankfully. He grabbed the towel, dried off his shoulders and arms, his chest- winced as it dragged over his scars, before moving to his hair. He headed over to the sink, left the towel partially draped over his head and grabbed his toothbrush, covering it in toothpaste and setting to brushing his teeth. The rush of mint was enough to make his head hurt, but still an improvement over the sour taste in his mouth.

 

He spit, rinsed, set the toothbrush away, before finally really glancing at the fogged up mirror. He reached up, wiped the steam away, tugged the towel from his head and let it hang over the sink. He inclined his head, studied his facial structure, the shape of his jaw, the curves of his lips. He’d been called so many things by so many people,  _ handsome _ and  _ beautiful _ ,  _ cute _ in little laughing tones.

 

They’d all always been perfect, for him.

 

And now he felt  _ hideous _ , felt like he was masquerading. He glanced down, caught a glimpse of his scars, and turned away, hurriedly grabbing his clothes and dressing.

 

When he emerged from the bathroom, his towel and clothes left in the hamper, he heard subtle sounds from the kitchen. He headed towards it, found Slade sitting at their small table, an array of weapons on the table that he was meticulously cleaning.

 

Dick had, more than once, scolded him for doing that  _ where they eat _ .

 

This time he said nothing. He just  _ watched _ as Slade meticulously took apart his gun, examining its components. When he finally glanced up, Dick looked away. Without a word, he headed for the couch, flopping down onto it. He found his phone sitting on the end table, plugged in and fully charged, and knew Slade had done that as well. He picked it up, unlocked it- and there were four missed calls from Jason, and an array of texts. They were in a short time span, from when he must have initially fallen asleep on the couch- and then they stopped.

 

Dick sucked on his tongue, heard the chair being pushed back from the kitchen table. He glanced up as Slade rounded the couch, sat down next to him, but far enough away that they weren’t touching. Dick curled up, tucked his feet up onto the couch as he leaned away. “Why did you come home?”

 

Slade glanced away from Dick, leaned his forearms onto his thighs. He didn’t speak, for a moment, before, “Jason called me.” Dick pursed his lips. “He said you needed me. Said something happened.”

 

Dick wasn’t sure what Jason had told him, but he noticed Slade’s hands ball into fists. And he could only imagine that Jason had described in too perfect detail how he’d found Dick.

 

“I’m going to ask you once,” Slade said, still not looking at Dick. “And if you don’t answer, that’s fine. But what  _ happened _ ?”

 

Dick dragged his tongue along his teeth, stalling. Stalling because talking about it and admitting it meant owning up to the fact that it was eating at him, little things from that. And he didn’t  _ want _ that, yet he never wanted to keep anything from Slade. Not now, not after coming so far- and he always made Dick feel  _ better _ .

 

He took a deep breath. “I… wasn’t in my best of shape,” he admitted, “Black Mask has been busy lately. He’s infatuated with Jason, and he’s trying to make the city burn to make a statement. Sleepless nights just trying to keep up with the mess. And well… these guys got the jump on me.” Dick gave a bitter laugh. “It’s pitiful. I can give  _ Batman _ a run for his money, and these two lowlifes get me down. I don’t know what it was, but they drugged me. Got a needle right to the gut.” Dick paused, almost wished Slade would look at him. “They were thinking of gutting me, you know, to get Jay’s attention. And then they… saw my chest scars. And they opened my suit up, saw  _ everything _ .” Dick felt himself tremble then. “They  _ talked _ . And then they flipped me over, and one of them…” His voice cracked, and Dick felt a sob welling up in his chest. He let it wheeze out of him, adding in a voice that he hated because of how small it sounded, “he got his fingers in me. Jason got there, but if he hadn’t…”

 

He hung his head, caught through his hair and tears the way Slade’s fists trembled. And then the man was turning to him, reaching for Dick. Dick moved, threw himself into the touch, collapsed against his chest. He let Slade wrap him in his arms, shook and cried again, his eyes stinging so badly.

 

“They said I wasn’t a  _ man _ ,” Dick sobbed, his words coming too loud. “Said I wasn’t a  _ boy wonder _ . God Slade, I can’t.” He hiccuped. “I can’t  _ look _ at myself.”

 

Slade rubbed his back, settled his chin into Dick’s hair. Dick clutched at his shirt tighter.

 

“What if they’re right?” he mumbled. “What if  _ they’re right _ ? God what if I’ve been wrong, this whole time-”

 

“ _ Grayson _ .” Dick clamped his mouth shut, carefully lifted his head. Slade was staring at him, one single eye so damn intent he swore he could see the curves inside his skull. “Look at me.” He reached up, cupped Dick’s face, rubbed a trail of tears away with his thumb. “You’ve never been like this.”

 

No, Dick  _ hadn’t _ . But he was so worn down, had been when it happened…

 

It was hard to see reason.

 

“You’re tired,” Slade whispered, “you’re not eating, are you?” Dick didn’t say anything. “And what happened…” He exhaled, slowly, and Dick felt Slade’s fingers trembling. “You’re no less a man than I am. You never have been.” Slade’s thumb rubbed his cheek again. “I’ve never seen you as anything else- no one has. And we  _ won’t _ , either.”

 

Dick nodded, slowly. And he knew that, in his gut. Knew everyone in the past, all the lovers that were  _ friends _ now, they’d always seen a man. Slade had, from the first moment Dick had stripped in front of him. He’d never acted any other way.

 

But it didn’t seem to matter how confident he was, when he was weary.

 

“I hate that I’m doubting,” Dick admitted, “because I never  _ did _ . And a few minutes and two men I’ll never know just… ripped it from me. And…” Dick shuddered. “Slade they were going to rape me. I know it, and I couldn’t  _ do _ anything. I couldn’t make my body move. I never… never wanna feel like that again.” He turned, nuzzled into Slade’s palm. “They tried to take sex from me.”

 

“They can’t do that.” Slade leaned in, kissed Dick’s forehead. “They can’t take anything from you, little bird. What you are can’t be changed.” He wrapped his arms around Dick again, easing them back into the couch. Dick began to relax, his stomach and chest feeling lighter over  _ admitting _ what had happened, would have happened- how he felt. Felt better with Slade reassuring him.

 

Dick let Slade hold him then, closed his eyes and rubbed his hand along his chest, occasionally feeling the beat of his heart. Let himself be comforted, as Slade kissed his hair.

 

“You’re my little bird,” he mumbled, “and no one will ever take a piece of you.”

 

Dick sighed, closed his eyes. He wanted to believe that. He truly, truly did.

 

*

 

Dick wanted to get back to patrol. He wanted to get back on the streets where he felt he was  _ needed _ , but when Slade voiced against it, he couldn’t exactly argue. He was finally catching up on his sleep, finally put some real food into his body that morning- and he guessed one more night in would be alright.

 

He was on the couch, letting himself get lost in a movie when he heard the knock at the apartment door. Slade was back in the kitchen, back to cleaning everything he had been forced to forget the night before. Dick shuffled under his blanket, but didn’t get up when he heard the chair shove back, and Slade making his way towards it.

 

When the door opened whatever greeting there was was soft. He couldn’t hear it over the movie, and reached for the remote, to mute the sound. He was just hitting the button when Jason walked around the couch, holding a rather large bag in one hand. “Goldie,” he said, cracking a smile. Dick grinned, leaned towards Jason when he bent over, brushed a kiss to his cheek. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Better,” Dick admitted, glancing past Jason to look at Slade. Jason nodded, and Dick looked back, eyeing the large bag. Jason glanced down himself, before clearing his throat. “I uh, know the past week has been hell, and if you weren’t run down, it wouldn’t have…” he paused, clicked his tongue, “ _ anyway _ , I wasn’t sure what sort of real food you could get the one and only  _ Deathstroke _ to cook you, so I made you some things.” Jason set the bag on the couch, and Dick heard multiple containers jostling together.

 

“Jesus Jason, how much food is in there?”

 

“For a normal person? Dinner for a few days, plus maybe leftover lunches. For you? Maybe two days.” He grinned, and Dick laughed.

 

“You didn’t need to do that.”

 

“Well, I couldn’t sleep much last night, and I was  _ supposed _ to stay in, so…” He trailed off, waving his hand, and Dick got it. Cooking was therapeutic for Jason. “Oh,” he added, reaching into his jacket pocket. He pulled his closed fist out, held it out, and Dick reached up, palm open. Jason dropped something light into it, a knotted little bracelet in different shades of orange. “Lian heard you weren’t… feeling well. She made you that.”

 

Dick laughed, running his fingers over the little bracelet before he flipped it onto his wrist, tying it with his other hand. “You’ve got a good kid, little wing.”

 

“Don’t I know it.” Jason reached up, rubbed the back of his neck. “Speaking of, I have to get going. Get her from school. I just wanted to make sure you guys got the food.”

 

Dick stood up, shed his blanket and carefully slid his arms around Jason. He hugged, tightly, and Jason hooked his own arm around him, kissed Dick’s hair. “You’re a good kid,” Dick whispered, “Don’t let Bruce tell you otherwise.”

 

Jason snorted. “ _ Kid _ ? Really wonder bread?” Dick huffed, smacked Jason’s back, and they separated each with a laugh. Dick grabbed the bag off the couch, thanking Jason again, as Jason walked around to Slade’s side, heading for the door. Dick went straight for the kitchen, set the bag on the counter and began lifting the containers from it, feeling his stomach grumbling. Jason’s cooking was second to none, and Dick knew even  _ Alfred _ was impressed by it.

 

He turned, glanced out the kitchen doorway, watched at the door as Jason passed something to Slade. It was a tiny folded piece of paper, which Slade glanced at, before he tucked it into his pocket. He reached out, clamped his hand on Jason’s shoulder, squeezed- and leaned very close, speaking directly into his ear. Dick frowned, curious, but the moment Slade was pulling back he turned away, busied himself with unpacking the containers again. He heard the door open and then close, and moved to the fridge, carefully stacking the containers in there.

 

He was in front of the open door when Slade walked up behind him, wrapped his arms around his waist, kissed the back of his neck. “Your brother’s a good man,” he said, and Dick recovered one of Slade’s hands with his own.

 

“Yeah? Say that to him next time. Not enough people tell Jason that he’s a good guy, in his heart.” He glanced down at his own wrist, saw the bracelet Lian had made him. “You know she picked orange because of your suit, right?”

 

Slade laughed, kissing the side of Dick’s neck now. It was tender, sweet, had a little hint of  _ promise _ to it. Dick sighed, leaning back against his lover, admitting that it made his belly tighten up a bit in excitement. And the fact that that still happened, it was  _ relief _ .

 

Maybe he’d been afraid he’d never want to have sex again. Maybe he’d been so tired he was worried he would have lost a part of him, his sexuality, that had always been his to control.

 

“She’s a good kid,” he said, before finally letting go of Dick. “Want help?”

 

“Absolutely,” Dick said, looking at all the containers all over the counter still. “Jason cooked enough to feed a small army.”

 

*

 

Dick tossed in the bed, hearing the sound of the window being slammed shut. He grumbled, pushing himself up slowly, hanging his head as the blanket fell down his back, over his hips. Heavy boots on the bedroom floor, and he yawned. “Slade?” he mumbled, lifting his head, just as his lover leaned over the bed. Slade’s gloved hand slid into his hair, held his head up and pulled him in close, as if to kiss him. But his mask was still on, and Dick could only breathe against where his mouth was, beneath it.

 

Dick shivered, felt strangely pierced even though he couldn’t see Slade’s eye. He inhaled, got the sharp, metallic scent of  _ blood _ , and opened his mouth,  _ whined _ .

 

Slade was on him before Dick could move. SHoving him down, straddling his body and pinning him to the bed. Dick bucked up against him, felt his large hands close around his wrists, pin them into their pillows. Dick tipped his head back, as Slade leaned down, nuzzled his neck, breathed him in despite his mask. “Baby,” Dick whispered, feeling his belly quivering.

 

This was different from being flipped over by a  _ stranger _ . Different because Slade would be off him in a single word, and Dick knew it. Different because Dick knew and trusted and  _ loved _ this man, and would sooner die than lose the joy he felt in their intimacy.

 

Dick squirmed, bucked his hips up, the blanket gone. In just his briefs and a tshirt, he got his bare thighs brushing Slade’s suit. “I can smell blood,” Dick whispered, as he felt Slade shudder into his neck. “Are you hurt?”

 

“ _ No _ .” Slade’s voice was slightly muffled, and Dick tightened his hands into fists, pushed against his hold. It wasn’t enough of a fight to truly buck him off, but Slade took the hint, released him. He braced his hands on the mattress, lifted his head, and Dick reached up, curled his fingers under his mask. He shoved it up, exposed Slade’s chin, his lips, and then he was pushed him, kissing him hard. Slade groaned into it, and Dick shivered, hands scrambling down to his shoulders, squeezing tightly.

 

“What did you do?” Dick whispered, but never got an answer. Slade’s tongue traced his lips, and Dick forgot his question entirely, sucked at the muscle when it pushed into his mouth. He bucked up again, and one of Slade’s hands lifted from the mattress, moved to his hip and began fighting with a fastening of his suit. Dick sighed, hummed into the kiss, licked his lips when Slade pulled away. “Take the mask off,” Dick breathed, and then added, “take  _ everything _ off.”

 

He didn’t want to rush back into anything, but at the same time he needed to prove to himself that this, it couldn’t be touched. What they had. What Slade made him feel.

 

There were things no one could take from him.  _ Ever _ .

 

Slade pulled himself from Dick, stood up. He tore his mask of, tossed it to the floor, his hair coming loose from his ponytail. Dick grasped at his own tshirt as Slade began the process of opening his suit, tore it up off over his head and chucked it towards the floor. He flopped back down, curled his fingers in the waistband of his briefs, pausing as the elastic lifted from his skin, for a single, solitary moment, thinking maybe he  _ shouldn’t _ .

 

What if Slade suddenly looked at him differently?

 

Dick swallowed the doubt down, eased his briefs down his thighs- dared to lift his legs up  _ straight _ , as if to boast about his flexibility, before he pulled them off his ankles, tossed them away. He heard Slade groan, glanced over to see his suit was pooled around his waist now, his gloves tossed away. Before Dick could move Slade had him by his ankles, jerked him so he was sprawled out across the bed, away from the pillows. Dick gasped, a Slade spread his legs wide, dropping down to his knees and leaning over the bed, his hands sliding up Dick’s legs, until they were cupping beneath his thighs, pulling him closer.

 

Dick groaned, when he felt Slade’s breath. It ghosted along his lips, before his tongue lapped up them. Dick quivered, his thighs shaking in Slade’s hands, as he fisted his hands in the blankets. “Slade,” he whispered, before Slade was pushing his legs up, gently. Dick hooked one on the edge of the bed, exposed himself further so Slade’s next lap of his tongue spread his lips, traveled up wet heat and then over his clit.

 

Dick gave a cry, hips bucking. He felt Slade chuckle, and that always drove him wild, had him bucking up to meet his mouth. Each slow drag of his tongue was torture, but  _ heavenly _ at the same time- was winding Dick up and up and  _ up _ , until he wanted to badly he was panting.

 

“Don’t- don’t tease me,” he managed, felt Slade’s lips pressing to his cunt,  _ kissing him _ softly, before he lifted his head.

 

“Then what should I do, pretty bird?”

 

Dick bit his lip, hesitated for a moment- but the words tumbled out a moment later, as they had countless nights before. “Eat my pussy  _ please _ .”

 

Slade groaned, turned and nuzzled one of Dick’s dark thighs. “Whatever my boy wants,” he whispered into the tender skin, before his mouth was going right back where Dick wanted it. His tongue lapped over his clit, quickly, and Dick shivered, moaning openly. Slade’s fingers dug into his thighs, and Dick reached down, got one hand around his ponytail. He tugged, felt more than heard Slade groan, and his lover was moving his tongue quicker. So many little, precise strokes, over and over  _ and over _ -

 

Dick was yelling out before he was ready, body seizing up in orgasm. He bucked into Slade’s mouth, felt his boyfriend chasing his body, unwilling to yield until Dick was shaking, so sensitive it almost hurt. He tugged at Slade’s hair, and the man finally lifted his head, sucked in a deep breath and leveled a stare up at Dick with an eye that seemed to have gone black. Dick gasped, watched as Slade stood up, began working his suit from his hips now.

 

Dick squirmed then, rolled onto his belly and stretched towards Slade’s nightstand. He managed to pull it open, dug around until his fingers got into the condom box, and he had a little package gripped tightly. He pulled back, just in time to have Slade grasp his hips, jerking him up and back until his knees dug into the bed. Dick squirmed, felt Slade’s thumbs rubbing up his pussy, before they were parting his lips, showing him off.

 

“What if I ate you again?” he asked, his voice husky. “Just like this?”

 

Dick rubbed his face into the blanket. “I’d die,” he mumbled, and Slade was laughing.

 

“You wouldn’t die, little bird.” He rubbed his hands up Dick’s ass, squeezed the supple flesh. “But what do you  _ want _ .”

 

“To come again?” Dick asked, and Slade laughed again.

 

“Is it a question?”

 

Dick sucked on his tongue, shook his head. He slid his hand along the bed, and Slade let go of him with one hand, reached out and traced his fingers over Dick’s, before he took the condom himself. Dick closed his eyes, heard the sound of the wrapper being torn open, and  _ waited _ . When one of Slade’s rubbed up Dick’s thigh and ass again, Dick exhaled, more than  _ ready _ . Slade pulled him closer, and Dick felt the blunt head of his cock, rubbing up along his slit. He shivered, groaned, and then Slade was pushing in, agonizingly slowly.

 

Dick exhaled with the motion, felt his lungs seeming to collapse on themselves, until he finally sucked in a breath, as his ass nestled back perfectly to Slade’s pelvis. He felt both of Slade’s hands on his hips, sliding up to his waist, stroking gently, as he bent over him.

 

“Dick,” he said, and Dick pushed himself up properly on his hands, spread his knees wider. “Tell me you want it.”

 

Dick let his mouth fall open. “Wan’ it,” he managed, “ _ want you _ .” He squeezed around Slade, to emphasis, and Slade groaned, pulling his hips back. He thrust forward, and Dick  _ smiled _ as he moaned, tossing his head back. Slade’s hands clutched his waist, dragged him back with each thrust. Dick felt his toes curling, his thighs wanting to shake. The first orgasm always left him on edge, left him easy to get off again and again  _ and again _ , and Slade filled him just perfectly so-

 

Dick was pushing himself back, forcing the rhythm to be  _ harder _ , faster, when Slade suddenly pulled out, lifted Dick and turned him, tossing him into the pillows. Dick gave a little cry, startled, but opened his legs when Slade crawled into the bed, between them.

 

His lover grasped his hips, jerked him down, back onto his cock. Dick arched, gasping, as Slade bent over him, grasped his chin in one large hand. “Let me look at you,” he rasped, and Dick lifted his eyes, held Slade’s stare, felt his thumb rubbing along his chin, towards his jaw. Dick turned, sucked it into his mouth and rolled his tongue over it, as Slade groaned, thrusting into him harder. Dick shivered, dragged his teeth along the digit when Slade pulled it back, before he leaned over, kissed Dick.

 

Dick reached up, hooked an arm over his shoulder, clutching at Slade’s back. Old, faded scars pressed up against his fingers, as Dick’s other hand slid between them. He locked his legs around Slade, groaning into the kiss as his fingers found his clit, rubbed quickly to match each of Slade’s thrusts.

 

“Sl-ade,” Dick whined, against his mouth, felt him smirk.

 

“Love you,” he breathed, “little bird.”

 

Dick shivered, kissed him again. There was an  _ I love you too _ somewhere in there, but it was swallowed up by the wet sounds of their mouths, by the sharp sound of skin on skin. By Dick’s little breaths and Slade’s pants. Dick dug his nails into Slade’s back, rubbed himself faster, feeling so close,  _ so close _ .

 

“Can you come again?” Slade asked, when Dick pulled back to breathe. He nodded, and Slade bent his head, nuzzled his neck. “Tell me how to make it happen.”

 

Slade didn’t need to be  _ told _ , Dick knew. He could pull Dick apart a hundred ways and each would be better than the last. And yet- there was something to being asked, something to having a say, to knowing Slade wanted to know exactly what Dick wanted, each moment, each time.

 

“Kiss me,” Dick gasped, “fuck me into the bed and  _ kiss me dammit _ .”

 

Slade grinned, the kind that had Dick’s stomach in knots- and then he was listening. He kissed Dick again, hard and wanton, and Dick shivered, bucked his hips up. He nipped at Slade’s tongue, groaned when his tongue was pushed away, so Slade could explore the curves and points to his teeth. 

 

Ick felt his belly going tight, relaxing, over and over again. It radiated down, between his legs, until he was clenching around Slade, relaxing,  _ almost coming _ with each thrust. He sobbed into the kiss, his fingers desperate and quick, pushing him closer and closer-

 

Until Dick came for a second time. He arched up, moaned loudly, mouth opening wider for Slade’s kiss, as he rhythmically gripped him over and over again. Slade fucked him through it, driving into him and growling, before breathing out his name into the kiss. His hips stuttered, and Dick knew he’d come to, knew it even as his own orgasm was still going, still driving him higher.

 

Dick collapsed back, panting. Slade laid out on top of him, a pleasant weight pinning him down, as he nuzzled his hair, kissed his temple. He was whispering little nothings to him, had Dick smiled, blushing even beyond the flush of heat his face, cheeks, even chest had taken.

 

“Mmm, Slade,  _ stop _ ,” he breathed, “you’re making me blush.” Slade laughed, a true kind, before he carefully rolled off of Dick, onto his side of the bed. He reached down, carefully worked his condom off, before tying it off and tossing it into the wastebasket. Then he opened his arms, and Dick was there, sliding in against his chest and tangling their legs together. He was happy to fall into silence, his body humming in his afterglow, as he began to drift back to sleep.

 

But somewhere, in the back of his mind, he remembered the scent of blood clinging to Slade’s suit.

 

And softly, Dick whispered again, “Slade, what did you do?” But it was lost to the night, went unanswered as Slade simply held Dick to him protectively, and Dick slipped back into sleep.

 

*

 

Dick woke up the next morning curled into Slade’s chest. He sighed, shifting his legs, smiling to himself as he nuzzled into his collarbone, huffing out a breathe and almost giggling as his chest hair tickled his nose. He slid a hand up, played his fingers through it and  _ almost _ tugged, if only because he loved the way Slade groaned whenever he did.

 

Dick lifted his head, a little shocked Slade was sleeping so soundly still. He was almost always out of bed before Dick. Very carefully, Dick pulled himself from his grasp, sliding away and sitting up. He watched his boyfriend sprawl out more on his belly, reach for Dick’s pillow and pull it closer to him. Dick’s chest went tight, and he smiled, reached out and brushed some of Slade’s long hair back.

 

Without a word, he stood up. He stretched, still naked, felt his muscles waking up, his bones locking into place. He gave a little groan, had this sweet feeling in his  _ core _ that meant Slade had fucked him right, the night before. Or morning. He hadn’t bothered to look at the clock when Slade came fumbling in their window.

 

Dick scooped up his own clothing from the floor, got back into his briefs and tshirt. He plucked his phone from his nightstand, grabbed a pair of sweatpants, and let himself out of the bedroom, very slowly pulling the door shut behind him.

 

He paused in the living room, set his phone on the couch arm so he could hop into his sweatpants. Yawning. He grabbed the remote, flicked the TV on, left it on the news as he grabbed his phone again, headed for the kitchen. He set it on the counter, heading for the coffee pot first. He was pouring the coffee grounds in when he heard faintly from the television,

 

“A gruesome scene greeted GCPD this morning.” Dick paused, set the coffee bag down and headed to the doorway, peeking out at the television. “Two men were found mutilated and left strung up early this morning. Due to the graphic nature of the crime, we cannot release scene photos, but we have eyes and ears on sight.”

 

Dick headed out to the living room, licking his lips as the footage switched. He recognized the Narrows- more so, recognized the exact fucking  _ building _ he had been in, nights before. It made the small of his back itch, tingle. But the camera flashed from the building quickly to the reporter, standing in front of the police tape. It looked like the scene was mostly cleaned up already, but Dick could see a few restless officers, like whatever they’d seen had spooked them.

 

“Good morning Gotham,” the woman said, flashing a smile. “So far there is no news from the GCPD as to who will take credit for this crime. Rumor is that it will be chalked up to the local crime movement and disputes between crimelords within the city. While we are not allowed to show images of the scene before clean-up on air, I can tell you the victims were found strung up above this building behind me.” The reporter glanced back. “It’s been abandoned for a few years now. The men reportedly bled out. Reports given earlier state they sustained many injuries pre-mortem. What was possibly most shocking was the extensive mutilation to their genitals, which the corner has stated led to their bleeding out.”

 

The sound fizzled out to Dick, turned to static. He turned on his heel quickly, heading back for the kitchen. Without much thought he flipped open the lid on the garbage can, frowning because it was mostly empty- a few paper towels, wrappers. He clicked his tongue, hurried towards the bathroom, crouching down by the little waste basket near the sink.

 

Sitting on top was a crumbled piece of paper. Dick grabbed it, stood up and unfolded it, smoothed it between his fingers. He knew Jason’s handwriting by sight, knew this was whatever note he’d given Slade before he left.

 

Two names, scrawled on it. That was it. And Dick didn’t need to hear names on the television to  _ get it _ . He hurried back to the kitchen, grabbed his phone and hit Jason’s name, holding it up and listening as it rang. He swore it was going to go to voicemail, but at the last second the line picked up.

 

Before a greeting he heard Jason calling out, “Eat  _ all _ your lunch today, Lian! Don’t just leave the carrots!” There was shuffling and then, “Goldie? What’s up?”

 

Dick couldn’t even dance around the idea. “The names you gave him,” he said, “are they the dead men on the news?”

 

There was silence for a long moment. He could hear Jason moving, like he was walking through the house- probably out of habit, so Lian wouldn’t hear, even though Jason was sure she was getting into the car with Roy in that moment, heading for school. “I was going to do it myself,” Jason said, “for what they  _ did _ to you. But… I felt like it’d be more cathartic for him.”

 

“Jason men are  _ dead _ .”

 

“Two men who tried to rape you. Two fuckin’ transphobic, queer hating,  _ shitbags _ . I think Gotham’s fine without ‘em.” Dick reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose. “I saw the photos online. Your man did good work.”

 

Dick’s tongue felt thick, heavy. Sometimes he could almost  _ forget _ what Slade was capable of. Almost. “Maybe this isn’t what I wanted.”

 

“It’s what you deserve. Knowing that when someone disrespects you and who you are, they get it back tenfold.” Jason paused again, but when he spoke, his voice cracked. “You’re my  _ brother _ , Dick. I love you. And I’m not going to apologize for setting your mad dog loose on anyone.”

 

Dick leaned heavily against the counter. He wanted to be angry. He  _ did _ . But a part of him, this little sliver in his chest, was light, was  _ elated _ . “I love you too little wing,” he offered.

 

“You’re going to be okay, Dick.”

 

“I know.” He swallowed. “I know because I  _ am _ . I had a moment, but…” he sighed.

 

“But no one can take  _ anything _ from you.” Dick nodded.

 

“Slade said something like that.”

 

“Yeah well, maybe he’s a better man than we ever gave him credit for.”

 

“Don’t let Bruce catch you saying that.” They both laughed, and Dick felt even better, the grim sickening feeling in his belly slowly evaporating. “He’s good to me.”

 

“That’s all I care about.” Dick kept smiling. He couldn’t help it.

 

*

 

The conversation with Jason lasted until Roy had come back from taking Lian to school, and then Dick let him go. He went back to make the coffee, left it to brew while he started making breakfast. Usually Slade was the one in here in the morning, but Dick couldn’t help but rather like the idea that maybe  _ he _ could do something nice for him, for once.

 

He’d looked the crime scene photos up online. One hand worked the spatula into the cooking eggs, the other held his phone as he scrolled through gruesome photos. His stomach turned once, before it settled and something  _ else _ bloomed in his belly.

 

Relief. Because maybe Jason was right- knowing that someone who could try to defile him, could try to take the power of sex from his hands, would tear him down and make him doubt his body in ways he never did- knowing they got well more than they gave him, well. It was soothing.

 

He didn’t want to dwell on that.

 

He was plating the food when he heard the bedroom door open. He listened to Slade’s footsteps, moving through the apartment, didn’t turn around when he knew he was behind him- just sighed as an arm slipped around his waist, pulled him back. He settled, tipped his head and rested it against Slade’s bare chest, got a kiss to his forehead.

 

“Are you making me breakfast?” he asked. His voice was rough from sleep. Dick squirmed, until he could turn around, holding the spatula up like he was proud of it.

 

“ _ Maybe _ .” His other hand slid up, rested on Slade’s bare chest, felt so much heat radiating off him. “Thought it might be a nice change.” He leaned up on his toes, kissed Slade’s jaw, easing back towards his ear, and then, very softly, “I know what you did.”

 

Dick was suddenly pushed back, against the counter. He dropped the spatula, stared up with dark eyes as Slade grasped his chin, held his face firm. It was rough but not unkind, and it only had Dick bucking out against him, grinding into him in a way that was not entirely appropriate, but he didn’t  _ care _ .

 

“I’m not mad,” Dick said, because it was true, it was so true and so terrifying. “Maybe I was at first. Maybe I was shocked. Maybe I  _ forgot _ who I crawl into bed with every night.” He reached up, wrapped his hand around Slade’s wrist, tightened it but wouldn’t let him pull his hand from his face. “And maybe I feel safe, knowing you’d do what so many wouldn’t.”

 

“No one touches my boy,” Slade whispered. His thumb rubbed Dick’s chin. “No one hurts you, Grayson.” He leaned in, kissed the corner of Dick’s mouth- and it shouldn’t have been as tender as it was. “Know that.”

 

“I do.” Dick closed his eyes, and when Slade finally let go of his face, he wrapped his arms around his neck. “I can’t condone what you did, but… thank you.” He leaned forward, settled back in against Slade’s chest. Slade held him, and Dick sighed, feeling like this, this was exactly how things should be. “We’re going to have a grand time explaining this to good ole Bruce.”

 

“Leave your father to me.” Slade’s hand rested on the small of Dick’s back. “I tell him what they did, he may just forget his little  _ rule _ .” Dick glanced up, shook his head, before he squirmed free, turning to pick up the two plates of food.

 

“No more talk of Bruce,” he said, holding them up, “because right now we’re getting on the couch, eating breakfast- and then probably fucking again. And I don’t want to ruin the mood.” He winked, and Slade chuckled, leaving Dick to walk towards the living room as he set to getting the coffee.

 

He truly did not plan to dwell on it that day. In fact, Dick fully planned to push the images he’d seen online out of his head, and enjoy the morning in with his boyfriend. And that night, when he finally graced Gotham’s streets again, when he was  _ sure _ he’d get a visit from a certain Bat who would have questions- because Bruce never missed a clue, because Dick was sure Slade had left some that the cops might not pick up on, but the rest of  _ their _ world might- he’d tell Bruce the truth.

 

And he’d tell him he didn’t regret what Slade did. That maybe he was seeing more gray in the world, each day with him.

 

That maybe, he felt truly safe, knowing there was someone who would tear hell apart with his bare hands, if the devil so much as looked at Dick the wrong way.


End file.
